


Gold Turns To Rust

by certifries



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Agender Apprentice, Agender Character, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt No Comfort, Illnesses, Magic, Nonbinary Character, Spoilers, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 11:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18893980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifries/pseuds/certifries
Summary: Maybe Sascha hasn't saved anyone in the end, but they brought laughter back to those who needed it most. They stayed. They tried.Apprentice Sascha refuses to leave Vesuvia in its time of need and ends up paying the price for their naivety.- - -Pre-Game events of my apprentice Sascha from the moment Asra left them to when they ultimately find their demise.





	Gold Turns To Rust

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there and thanks for checking in!!  
> Please read the tags!! This isn't a happy story and it doesn't have a happy end because canon isn't happy to begin with.  
> There's moments of substance abuse and graphic depictions of illness, if that's not for you, please don't stick around.  
> For all of those who are staying, I hope you enjoy your stay!!

The sky hasn't changed colour in what feels like an eternity. A dull grey haze keeps the people of Vesuvia from seeing the usual blue that must be hidden somewhere far above. The dark clouds only act as another grim reminder of their crisis. Of the people lost.

While the people are trying to get by, trying to survive, some have set a goal in their mind to help as many people as they can. One of those people is the magician Sascha, who has been fighting over and over with their closest friend Asra over whether they should leave or not.

For Sascha that has never even been an option.

"We can help these people! We can't just abandon the city!" It always ends like this but something seems different this time. The air seems charged with an unspoken energy, an omen that something will happen. "You can't just keep running away every time things get difficult, Asra."

A moment passes where Asra looks at them, a deep pain etched into his features. "I'm not running, I'm trying to protect us." His voice is barely more than a whisper.

"Maybe I don't need to be protected." Sascha's voice is so different from their usual calm demeanor. They're full of rage and energy, a deep anger that has festered for way too long and now threatens to boil over. "If you're so scared, maybe you should leave."

They turn away, leaving Asra to stand in the middle of the hallway while all he can manage is to gape at them, completely at a loss for words. It takes a moment before his brain catches up again, but he's at their side in an instant, touching their shoulder, tears in his eyes. "Sascha, please join me, we can't stay here. It's not save."

But Sascha just turns around to him, emotions hidden behind a blank mask, concealing the anger, hurt and frustration that's raging inside of them. "I said leave, Asra."

He flinches as if burned, taking a step back, and then another. A few tears escape before he can wipe at his eyes and school his expression into something less hurt, though he's not entirely able to hide the pain.  
"Okay", he says eventually. "Take care while I'm gone." 

It takes Asra but a moment to gather his few personal items into a bag, before he's gone, taking Faust with him as well. Sascha doesn't have a familiar, so they're all alone suddenly. It's not the first time he's gone but somehow this time seems more final than before.

 

Sascha attends to the shop as usual. There are a lot more customers now than there ever were before. Though, perhaps they should call them patients now. The people of Vesuvia don't ask for charms anymore, not in the usual sense anyway. Instead they ask for potions, for herbs and protective spells. Anything to keep them safe from the Red Plague.

As much as Sascha wants to live up to the people's hope, there's not much they can do with their limited medical knowledge. All they know is rooted in magic. And magic doesn't exactly cause miracles. Not usually, anyway. So all they can really do to help, is lessen the pain while everyone around them surely dies. It's a terrible helplessness that has taken a hold of them, as they attempt to create new mixtures to work as a cure. But nothing seems to work.

All they can do is make leaving this world a little less terrifying.

 

It comes as a saving grace, that Sascha is hidden away in their shop all day, speaking to people and feeding strays. There is no time to let their thoughts wander. All they can do is work and help people until exhaustion takes over them and they pass out sitting in their chair still. Sascha hasn't made it to their actual bed in weeks. At least it keeps them from thinking about a certain magician. Sascha can't understand how he could possibly leave them and Vesuvia just to run away. Of course it's not safe now, but they're magicians. They can help! He doesn't have to come back. Sascha doesn't want to see the coward ever again. Though, that might be the pain in their chest speaking.

Obviously, the shop is a lot to big for one person alone. It always has been, and just like every other time, Sascha misses Asra dearly. But they pain is too fresh, still etched into their heart. Anger flares up whenever someone mentions his name and soon enough the people have stopped talking about them.

At first Sascha still hoped that Asra would return after a few days. That maybe he wouldn't abandon them. But the weeks have gone on and on. Sascha doesn't hope anymore. There is nothing keeping them at the shop, which only makes their choice more obvious. They can't do much helping if they keep giving away herbs. Their stock is running low and they can't afford to leave the city. They have to go to the palace.

 

The head physician who assigns them to their new workplace is .. weird. They have an odd fascination with diseases and death. If Sascha wouldn't know better, they had assumed the other didn't even want the plague to end. But that's ridiculous, right?  
Sascha is assigned a number. Names aren't important here. It's easier to keep track of the healthy and the sick by giving them numbers. Their mentor is Doctor 069. Finally they can learn actual medicine. They can help, take care of the sick and the dying. Finally they can actually change something.

Except that change doesn't come. Their mentor broods over several textbooks, taking notes, scribbling in the margins. His name is doctor Jules, as Sascha found out during one of their calmer moments. Doctor Jules refuses to sleep at home. Sometimes Sascha isn't even sure if he has a home. He's always there, reading, taking notes. He doesn't talk a lot but when he does it's important information. Things that can decide between life and death.

Change doesn't come but the determination in Jules' eyes makes Sascha almost believe that it will.

 

Sascha is still young, full of hope, believing that hard work can change the world for the better. They are young and naive and hopeful but the change never comes, no matter how hard all of them work.  
They have met others just like them. Some are younger, some older, but they all share the same naivety. They want to help. If enough people help, surely they can save their home. 

But they can't. 

Lotti doesn't show up for her shift one day. At first rumors go around that she left the city with her husband, that she expects a child, that they will be a family. But those closest to her know that her husband died two months ago. They don't expect to see Lotti again. 

Afterhours, when the apprentices meet at the Rowdy Raven to drink away their fear and sorrows, they hear about Lotti boarding one of the ships to the Lazaret. They're silent after that, some tears are spilled. Everyone is brooding, caught in their own thoughts, before Aleks climbs on top of a table and starts yelling. After a few moments they realize she's singing and join her in song. Sascha and a few others climb onto the table alongside her to dance.  
Everything seems almost okay then. 

Apprentices, friends, keep disappearing but it seems that for every number lost, there's a new face to fill the place. The deaths aren't acknowledged at work. The mentors don't see their faces anymore. How would you memorize people who just leave again in a few days or weeks? If the plague doesn't kill them, indifference will. 

 

Sascha keeps hoping to change the world. They don't believe they can save anyone anymore, but they believe that they can make their patients' end as graceful and painless as possible.  
There are children, so many of them. They are scared, usually without their parents. Sometimes their parents die first, sometimes they're abandoned. It doesn't change that these children are alone and terrified of what is happening to them. 

So Sascha teams up with a few others and tells stories of their adventures. Being a magician has its perks in times like these. At least they manage to bring a smile back to those who are dying. Sascha brings back a spark of magic in everyone's lives, Aleks teaches the children to dance without care and Pere tells the most vivid tales of his life at sea. 

 

Pere is crying one day, hiding in his mentor's office. His boyfriend was sent to the Lazaret. Sascha isn't sure if they can help ease the pain but they don't have to. Pere doesn't return to work the next day.  
The Red Plague doesn't just take those who fall ill, it takes those who lose hope, it demands sacrifices in every form like a hungry beast. 

 

Eventually Sascha and Aleks are the only ones left from their original group. Neither of them know how much time has passed, neither of them cares. They are all that is left. Their mentors tell stories about how lucky they are to have apprentices who have lasted this long, but they don't seem to care what kind of loss that includes. 

Aleks is sent to the Lazaret and Sascha's heart seems to burst into a million shards but she's not gone just yet. Aleks has been sent to help out, to work there. Aleks isn't dead yet. 

 

It's not enough to keep the nightmares away and it's not enough to keep Sascha from drinking themselves into stupor. There are young and hopeful apprentices showing up every other day. Their eyes sparkle with determination. 

Sascha can almost admire them, but it never takes long to break them. Not anymore. No one has been dancing on tables or singing ever since Aleks left and Sascha feels almost bad for the newbies and that they will never experience their celebrations. Every day of living is worth a celebration but Sascha only finds their solace at the bottom of whatever glass sits in front of them. 

Of course Sascha knows that they're just stumbling towards their inevitable end but the headaches are the only thing reminding them that they're still alive.  
Long forgotten are the restless nights of heartache where nothing could've hurt worse than their longing for Asra. Now Sascha's nights are filled with seedy bars and laughter. It's easier like this. It's easier to not think too much. 

 

"You should go home", Jules tells them one evening. They haven't actually spoken in a while. Sascha had almost forgotten what his voice sounds like. "Get some sleep, come back well rested tomorrow." Sascha doesn't have the energy to fight him. They grab a children's book and read the kids a bedtime story before finally leaving the palace to return to the shop. There is no alcohol to lull them to sleep today but Sascha finds that they don't need it today.  
A deep ache has settled in their bones, undetected due to their lack of self awareness. When they stretch it feels like their muscles are on fire but the pain eases as fast as it came. 

 

Sascha doesn't drink anymore. Instead they have returned to telling stories, bringing magic and teaching dances. If their friends aren't there to do it, Sascha will keep their legacy up.  
Some of the older people grant them grateful smiles as they get ready to leave for the Lazaret. The palace is filled with the laughter of children. 

 

The Red Plague is a disgusting disease. It starts slow and silent. At first you would never guess what the symptoms mean. Headaches, muscle pain, nausea. All of those have become a standard among those working with the ill. But not because they are ill themselves, but because that's what the work does to you. 

Sascha wakes up coughing one day. It is winter in Vesuvia. They haven't been wearing their scarf lately. Surely they caught a cold. The cough doesn't ease though and the patients start to give them worried glances. Sascha just keeps assuring them that it's fine. "It's all those herbs in the masks. Those fumes can't be healthy." They laugh awkwardly and that is the end of it.  
They feel great most of the time. Well, as good as you can feel if you're surrounded by death every day. Sometimes they feel dizzy at random times during the day but with a busy schedule like theirs, everyone would forget to eat properly. The cough hasn't gone away yet. 

There's blood now. When they breathe it sounds just slightly off. They know what's happening. Sascha has seen it enough times before to know exactly what's happening and when it started. They know there's no saving them now. But Sascha wouldn't be Sascha if they gave up now. Of course they know they will die but as long as they can walk and care for their patients, they will.  
Their voice is more quiet now, they're calmer, less energetic, but their magic still holds the same power of wonder. The patients don't notice the difference Their mentor is too busy studying and experimenting to realize something is wrong. Soon he too will lose his apprentice. 

Sascha doesn't acknowledge that they're dying. They dance, they tell stories, they show off their magic and when they come home they feed the few stray cats that remained. They don't drink anymore which, by any means, makes them more healthy than before. 

 

There is no one left to mourn them. It's a realization that comes early in the morning when the sun hasn't risen yet. They're sitting on the bathroom floor, unable to get up, that's how hard their limbs are shaking. Sascha is freezing and yet there's a layer of sweat covering them. 

The person they thought to be their soulmate has left, for good this time. Their friends have been taken by the Plague, in one way or another. They're alone, there's no one left to mourn them.  
For the first time in months Sascha is crying. It's not pity, it's not even sadness. It's a hopelessness that has slowly eaten away at their health for way too long. 

When they look up at their reflection, the tears on their face are red as blood. The tears fall freely then, there is no holding them back now. Sascha will die, there is no denying it now.  
For a moment they catch themself longing for Asra's embrace but quickly shake off the thought. They do not regret staying and they don't regret sending Asra away. They don't need some coward to take care of them. 

 

There isn't a lot they can do now. It's not like they can hide the red rimmed eyes or the permanent discoloration. So, Sascha leaves a note at their mentor's desk, wondering if he will even find it among the chaos. Then they put their own name on the list of people being sent to the Lazaret. They're not too far gone yet, technically. But if Sascha has learned one thing during their time at the palace, it's that the last few days or weeks are only filled with suffering. 

There is nothing left for them to do in the city, nothing they could really mourn for. Maybe Sascha hasn't saved anyone in the end, but they brought laughter back to those who needed it most. They stayed. They tried.

 

The chimneys loom tall over over their heads as they finally arrive at the beach. It could be a peaceful place, if it wasn't for the painful history. Dark, almost black, smoke obscures their view upwards. It's like a cage, almost. Like a blanket has been draped over the island to keep everything there. Once you arrive at the Lazaret, there is no going back.

Some of the people around them recognize Sascha. Some start to cry, some embrace them in a tight hug. Maybe there are people mourning them after all.  
Finally they stand in front of the looming gate, reciting their own name with a voice that sounds so much unlike their own. The person in front of them halts for a moment, frozen in place. Then they take of the mask and reveal a familiar face, though her expression is obscured by grief and sadness.

 

"Aleks?" Sascha's voice breaks at the end of the familiar name. They haven't said it aloud in what feels like years. Maybe it was. "You're alive." Their hands rise to touch Aleks' soft face but they stop themself before they can actually touch her. 

"I'm so sorry, Sascha." Aleks disregards all measures of safety and embraces Sascha in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry." 

Sascha can't tell who's shaking more, themself or Aleks. It doesn't really matter though, does it? "Thank you for being here", they reply.

Seeing Aleks' face for a last time, knowing that she's alright, that she's still healthy, gives them the strength they needed for a final decision.

"Aleks you have to do me a favor."

"Anything--"

"You have to get me inside the furnace. Please--"

Aleks is grasping their shoulders, digging their nails in almost painfully. "No, we can wait, maybe they can help you, you don't have to die. Please!" But they both know that there's no cure, there will be no miracle.

"Please, Aleks. I'm tired. I will not survive either way. Please don't let me suffer."

 

Sascha can see the hesitation in Aleks' expression before she finally nods. "Okay." The air is heavy with words unspoken. So many things left unsaid.

"Thank you", Sascha says and a rare smile lights up their face before they lean forward to leave a quick kiss on Aleks' cheek. "Thank you", they repeat as if those two words could properly express their love and gratitude.

Aleks adds a few scribbles on the list behind Sascha's name before she leads them inside personally. "I've missed you", she whispers, intertwining their hands. 

"I've missed you too"

A moment of silence passes where they just stand there, waiting for the line to go down until it reaches them. Aleks turns towards Sascha and leaves a last kiss on their cheek. "I will miss you."

Sascha's throat seems to lock up with unshed tears, almost suffocating. There are no words to be said so they just nod before turning around and walking into the flames.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr!  
> [@schattenlurch](https://www.schattenlurch.tumblr.com)  
> [@stubsel](https://www.stubsel.tumblr.com)


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